


Bad Call

by AliceSchuyler



Series: Keeping It Together [17]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: AU 2.08 ending, Angst, Carlos Whump, Carlos is a noodle, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, TK whump, fic request, i give up tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 20:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30010473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceSchuyler/pseuds/AliceSchuyler
Summary: He’d found TK.Everything was finally right in the world, Wolfe was down, Marlowe was dead, and his Karen of a wife was being cuffed.But had anyone cleared Wolfe of his weapon? Well, that was the question he’d ask himself in days to come; who’d made the bad call now?
Relationships: Carlos Reyes & Gabriel Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star), Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: Keeping It Together [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132163
Comments: 16
Kudos: 191





	Bad Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maltrie_21](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Maltrie_21), [tiniestmite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestmite/gifts).



> Maltrie_21 provided the prompt, and huge kudos and thanks goes to officereyes on tumblr who was like YES DO THE THINGS so I did the things, but I couldn't tag you here because I couldn't remember your Ao3 username (oops?).

“Is that the guy?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yeah, that’s him. How did you find him?”

Gabriel Reyes droped his gaze to the floor for a moment, before he turned to the officer to his left. “Detective, can I have a few minutes alone with the witness please?”

“Of course sir.” The detective abandoned them, closing the door behind him with a click, and Carlos can already feel the tension in the room thicken, standing beside his father.

“We didn’t find him. He found us. Walked into APD on Guadelupe a few hours ago pretty shook up. His name’s Armando Teban. Works construction. Lives in Dove Springs with his son.”

“Enrique,” Carlos breathed, glancing back at Armando in the interrogation room, looking just like he felt hours earlier, a bundle of nerves and anxiety. “What about the bomb?”

“We think it was real.”

“You _think_ it was?” Carlos can’t hide the incredulity from his voice.

“He wasn’t wearing it when he turned himself in. Claimed he made his rendezvous, the man who forced him to wear it removed it, took the cash. We presented him with a photo lineup. He picked out these two faces, which suggests he’s telling the truth.”

“Who are they?”

“Anthony Marlowe and Chris Wolfe. Former bunkmates at Allred Prison. This afternoon, they almost burned down the apartment building they were living in. We found bomb-making components in the kitchen.”

“Are they in custody?”

“Your friend in there gave us a description of a brown panel van they were operating out of. And we figured they may have been injured in the blast, so we’re monitoring hospitals, urgent care facilities, vets. We’ll get them.”

“That’s all?” Carlos could feel the hope draining from his chest, trickling away as he looked at his father, a half-smile on his face starting to fade.

“What else is there?”

“How about that I was _right_? That my instincts _were_ good?”

“Carlitos. You know I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.” Carlos glanced away, face hardening as he realised his father was not going to be swayed from the events of the day. 

“You mean the investigation onto _me_. Right? That’s what I am to you. An _ongoing_ investigation. Well, you let me know when my captain tells you what to think of me. I’ll be interested to know.” Carlos doesn’t even wait to see what his father says, just walks away, flinging open the door to escape as quickly as possible before his rage reaches boiling point, clipping his thumb on the door as he stormed out, anger and emotional hurt overriding the physical pain.

_He's better than this_.

* * *

Hours later, Carlos is sitting at his kitchen bench, ciabatta loaves, salad, cutting boards, knifes, empty cans strewn across the bench. The table is set for two, a quiet dinner of pasta that Carlos had messaged TK about earlier, and he’d responded with a thumbs up.

Two of his messages had now gone unanswered, and Carlos could feel his heart leaping into his throat and the panic rising at the lack of the response.

“Where are you, TK?”

After a moments pause, Carlos realizes he doesn’t want to wait to find out. TK’s never gone silent on him before, and was not like him to disappear off the grid without a message to Carlos. He clicks his phone closed, his now bandaged thumb aching as he gripped his phone tightly, standing up and crossing the room. He leans across the dining table, blowing out the candles – TK would never let him hear the end of it if he let the apartment burn down because of _unattended candles_ \- before heading out the door. He’s in his Camaro and over at Owen and Gwyn’s a few minutes later, knocking politely on the door and feeling a little out of place as he stands on their front door step, tucking his hands into his pockets. He can hear Owen call out that he’ll get it, and the door opens in front of him few seconds later.

“Hey! Come in.”

“Hey. Sorry to stop by so late. I didn’t have your number,” said Carlos breathlessly, stepping inside the front door, Owen closing it behind him.

“Sure.”

“Is TK here?” Carlos feels hopeful; maybe he’s just gone to the wrong house after shift. He glances around briefly, before he settles his gaze on Owen’s face.

_Don’t panic yet, he might be here._

“No… we thought he was with you,” replied Owen, sounding unsure and uncertain, and Carlos feels his heart rate increase as he realizes he doesn’t know where TK is. He spots Gwyn, moving a box in the dining room.

“Hey Gwyn.”

“Hey Carlos.”

“Sorry, things are a little messy around here right now.” Gwyn rolls her eyes as she moves to stand next to her ex-husband.

“There’s really no use in playing it coy, Owen. I’m moving back to New York.”

“Really? But you seemed so happy.” Carlos feels like he’s missed something in the narrative here, not sure how Gwyn moving to New York happened when it seemed like they were doing fine the previous night. “Ah, uh, does TK know?”

“He found out this morning.”

“Oh, God. That could explain it.”

“Explain what?” asked Gwyn, head tilted as she looked at Carlos, trying to read his face.

“His shift ended an hour ago, but he didn’t show up for dinner. Now he’s not answering my texts or calls. He’s never done this before.” Carlos watches Gwyn’s face fall, and his own heart plummets with it.

“I knew it. _I knew it_. When he shuts down like he did today it is _always_ a warning sign,” said Gwyn vehemently.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions—”

“If he is in some bar or some alley because of us, so help me Owen, I will _never_ forgive myself.” Owen sighed.

“All right, when I left the station, EMS was out on a call. Maybe it went long. Let me call Captain Vega and see what’s going on.” Owen crosses the room and picks up his phone, clicking through his contacts as Gwyn and Carlos crowd around him. “Straight to voicemail.”

“That is not good,” piped up Gwyn, arms crossed over her chest. Carlos can feel the fear rolling off Gwyn, the underlying tension of _wrong, wrong, wrong_ vibrating the air.

“No no, it is good. ‘cause it means they’re probably still out on the call.” Gwyn clearly doesn’t buy that, Carlos can tell from the way she rocks on the balls of her feet. “All right, I can call the captain on duty. See if I can get some information.” He dials a different number, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Captain Harper, it’s Strand. Hey, you got any information on Captain Vega’s team?” Carlos watches on nervously, waiting for the captain on the other end of the phone to respond, to relieve the churning in his stomach, hoping for an answer about TK. “Copy. All right, I appreciate it.” He ends the phone call, turning to face Carlos and Gwyn, face unreadable.

“You can rest easy. They are still out there. Ergo, no relapse.” Owen strolled past Gwyn, who unfolded her arms, sliding her palms down her thighs as she relaxed, relieved it wasn’t something worse.

“Oh, thank God.”

“But I do think it would be a good idea if Carlos and I were at the station the minute he gets back.” Owen picked up his jacket and keys.

“Agreed. Bring him straight home.” Carlos heads for the front door, Owen behind him.

“I promise.” Owen unlocks his pickup, Carlos getting in the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt across his chest and clipping it in.

“So glad the ambulance was still out. Was starting to think the worst,” he sighed, feeling relieved that they were still just on a call that had run long.

“The captain on duty said that they haven’t heard from ‘em all night. No radio in, no call, no nothing. It’s not good news.” He glanced at Carlos as he started the engine, and Carlos felt his heart drop into his boots, the anxiety ratcheting up several notches. As they wind their way through the streets, Owen dials the dispatch center, requesting to be put through to Grace. A few moments later, her voice filters through the truck speakers.

“ _Hey, Captain Strand. What can I do for you, sir?_ ”

“Hey, Grace, we’re trying to get a 20 on Captain Vega’s rig. The shift ended over an hour ago and they still haven’t come back to the station.” Carlos exhales carefully, trying to maintain his grip on the nerves zinging through his body.

“ _Huh_. _I did send ‘em on a call tonight, but that was a little while ago. Let me pull up their GPS. Ah… that can’t be right._ ”

“What?”

“ _Um… Captain, their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared._ ” Owen catches Carlos face, before turning his attention back to the road in front of him.

“Where was the last place you sent ‘em?”

* * *

“126! You down here?” Carlos is jogging in front of Owen’s truck, torch held in his hand, scanning the parking garage.

“We’re almost to the bottom,” reported Carlos, emotions locked down tight. “Maybe they were in the east garage.”

“Dispatch said it was this one.” Owen keeps driving, rolling really, until Carlos stops in front of him, crouching down, picking up something from the concrete. 

“Captain Strand.” Owen cuts the engine, climbing out of the pickup as Carlos crosses over to him, showing him the gold coin in his hand. 

“That’s TK’s sobriety chip. Left us a message he was here.” Carlos glanced up, spotting the vehicle in front of them.

“Brown panel van,” he mutters.

“What’s that?”

“The case my father’s been working on. Two suspects wanted, operating out of a brown panel van.” He hesitates, before putting an arm out, stopping Owen in his tracks. He cautiously moves around the van, flipping on his torch and dampening the light with the tips of his fingers as he steps around the front, keeping himself low enough to not been seen through the windscreen. He stands up carefully, shining the torch in the front window before breathing out carefully. “All clear.”

Owen opens the back door, inhaling sharply at the sight on the floor of the van. “Blood. A lot of it.”

“He said the suspects might have been injured. The same guys blew up their own apartment today,” remarked Carlos, shining his torch on the blood congealed on the metal floor, rags scattered through the van.

“Yeah, I was on that call. If anybody was standing next to that thing when it went off would be in rough shape.” Owen closed the door, before coming around to see Carlos, watching him carefully.

“So they weren’t called here for a women in labor,” realised Carlos, frustration evident in his tone.

“No, they needed medical attention and couldn’t trust a hospital.”

Carlos rattled through all the information in his head, sifting through it until he started muttering under his breath. “Sun & Salt. Charles Vega’s restaurant. Tommy would have access to it.”

“They still have that?” asked Owen incredulously.

“Charles’ been using the kitchen for his catering jobs. I talked to him about it at TK’s party. The place would have power, it’d be empty, and it’s not far from here,” added Carlos emphatically.

“You’re a good cop, Carlos.”

Carlos dips his head, appreciating the compliment but not feeling it, the hurt from his father’s earlier comments still stinging. “Tell that to my father,” he said bitterly.

“ _You_ tell him. Gotta call it in.” Carlos’ step falters as he realizes Owen is right; he needs to call it in, it’s an open investigation that he’s actively tampering with now. He slid his phone out of his pocket, dialling his father’s number.

“ _Carlitos_.”

“Dad, we found the bomber’s van.”

“ _What? Where? And who’s ‘we’?_ ”

“I’m with Captain Strand. We’re at the Austin Center Mall parking garage, but we think they’re at the Sun & Salt with three hostages. We’re on our way.”

“ _Son, stay where you’re at. That’s an order. I’m heading there now._ ” Carlos ended the call, gripping the phone tightly, not wanting to let his anger show.

“What did he say?” asked Owen.

“He ordered me to stay here.”

“What do you wanna do?”

“Trust my gut.” Carlos opens the passenger side door to the pickup, sliding inside and buckling up as Owen winds his way back through the parking structure, out into the dimly lit streets, Carlos vibrating with tension. He’s normally in uniform for a raid like this, Kevlar vest on, gun on his side, colleagues nearby to help bring the situation to a quiet close, the law on his side.

_He has none of that tonight._

They pull up in front of Charles’ restaurant a few minutes later, and the anxiety Carlos has been trying to tamp down is right on the edge, and he’s not sure if he wants to run inside and risk it all, or if he’s just going to faint from all the blood rushing through his head. Owen pulls out a sidearm from the glove box, holding it in front of him, and Carlos wants to correct his stance, his posture, but he’s worried if he opens his mouth he’s going to vomit from the nerves thrumming through him. As they enter the restaurant, they can hear screaming, sounds of a serious scuffle, and Owen quickens his step, Carlos not far behind. They spot TK and Nancy near a table, a woman on the ground scrabbling for a gun as TK kicks it away, but worse is spotting Chris Wolfe aiming a gun at Tommy, and Carlos doesn’t even see Own squeeze the trigger. Wolfe jolts back, before falling to the floor in a heap, groaning.

“TK? Hey!” Carlos ducked out from behind Owen, covering the space between him and TK in mere seconds. TK threw himself at Carlos, clutching him tightly.

“Hi baby,” said TK, sounding weak but definitely relieved, edging towards panicked. Carlos holds him close, careful of the wound on TK’s head and the sore thumb Carlos himself is trying to ignore because _TK is okay_ and the shrill screeching in his head needs to calm down because everything is alright. He just breathes him in for a moment, before cradling a hand behind his head, trying to see the wound, but TK is holding him so tightly he can barely move, and he can feel the staccato heartbeat beating through TK, edged in terror. He doesn’t even see Tommy and Owen or Nancy speak, but knows there are still two suspects in the room, and he needs to get TK out of there. Owen walks across the room as Tommy requests a dose of Narcan for Wolfe, and Carlos passes TK over to Owen on his left, reassuring TK that he’s not going anywhere as he spots his own father walking into the restaurant, gun cocked.

“Dad, it’s fine. The female suspect is over there, and Wolfe is on the floor. Tommy is looking over him now,” said Carlos wearily. He hears a gun cocking, the click as the trigger is pulled, and two shots ring out.

_The whole world stops._

Carlos feels the bullets rip through his skin, one in his right shoulder, the other into his left thigh, staggering backwards a little. He can hear yelling, screaming for someone but he doesn’t know who, and to be honest he doesn’t really take much notice, it’s not important, the rushing sound in his ears is obscuring everything. He licks his lips, feeling parched, unsteady legs trembling underneath him. There’s no pain, not yet anyway, just confusion, his brow furrowing as he brings his left hand up to touch the blood that’s spilling from the flesh of his shoulder, oozing down in a way he’s not familiar with, before glancing down at the hole in his left leg and then reality comes rushing back in, overwhelmingly loud and insistent.

_He’s been shot._

He staggers backwards, a hot poker of pain spearing from his leg as Owen catches him mid fall, his shoulder searing as the pain makes itself known and is that _him_ he can hear gasping? It’s all disjointed and confusing and Carlos just tries to breathe, tries to do as Owen tells him as paramedics flood the room. TK is on his left side, clutching his hand, and he holds on as tightly as he can, an anchor in the sea of pain that’s threatening to swallow him whole as he blinks away tears. He can see his father a few steps away, unmoving, eyebrows raised and all Carlos can think is that he’s disappointed him again, made the same bad call he’d been making all day, because _he’s not good enough_.

That thought is quickly pushed out of his head as Tommy presses a wad of gauze on his shoulder, and he chokes on the pain as another paramedic does the same to his thigh, feeling hands as they worked to bandage up the wound, to try and prevent any more blood flowing out of it, so they can get him to the hospital. He feels TK’s hand on his forehead, smoothing back sweaty curls, before briefly pressing a kiss to the damp skin. He wants to reassure TK, to tell him he’ll be okay, they’ll be okay, but he has to grit his teeth against the shards of pain threatening to slice him to pieces, the agony almost overwhelming.

“Breathe baby, please.” Carlos tries to, a sharp stabbing in his chest pausing him in his tracks, gurgling in his chest as the pain and pressure increase tenfold. He can hear Tommy barking orders to the team working over him, before the world turns starts sliding away in front of his eyes, darkness creeping in, colors dripping like oils on a canvas, before fading to an inky black.

_He's dying._

* * *

“I’ve lost his pulse!” TK gripped Carlos’ hand tightly as his eyes rolled back into his head, willing him to breathe again, to just look at him.

“TK, honey, you need to move, please,” pleaded Tommy. TK scrambled back, away from the scene as two more paramedics swarmed in, prepping Carlos for transport as Tommy and the first paramedic start CPR, hooking up the LifePak. Tears are sliding down his cheeks as he throws a prayer up to anyone who’s listening because he’s not ready to say goodbye to Carlos yet, not like this, _not ever_. He watches on as they work on Carlos, his unconscious body being roughly manhandled as they try to stem the blood flow from the two wounds, pressing pads of gauze to each site and securing them tightly, one of them inserting an IV and TK wants to beg them to be gentle. He dropped his head to his knees, feeling a stab of pain from the blow to his head, and the nausea rising through him. He leaned sideways, stomach finally rebelling and emptying him of the quick lunch and bottle of water he’d consumed during the early parts of the shift. He feels a hand on his back and pulls away, unsure of who’s behind him, when he comes face to face with Gabriel Reyes’ concerned eyes, a bottle of water in his hand as he crouched down in front of TK.

“Here, son. Sip this,” he said quietly. TK has no idea how he can be so calm when his own son is on the floor, clearly dying, but he almost admires him for the ability to separate his emotions from the situation, and tries to do the same, heart dropping as he realizes he’s probably exposed this relationship to Carlos’ father without even meaning to. He discovers he must have been in his own head longer than he though, because Carlos has been loaded onto a gurney, LifePak perched on the end and his heart is beating again, though not well from what TK can see on the monitor.

“What’s happening?” asked TK, voice gravelly. He took a sip of the water, watching through glazed eyes as Carlos is loaded into the back of an ambulance.

“They got him back, and he’s being taken to Memorial Hospital, which is where you’ll be going too. Can you stand?” asked Owen, joining the duo and crouching down in front of his son. TK shrugs his shoulders, a phantom pain echoing through the left one as he remembers how much it hurt him to be shot, and Carlos has to be feeling so much more at the moment. Gabriel and Owen exchanged glances over TK’s head, before each putting a supportive hand under his armpit, lifting him to his feet with ease. TK’s head droops forward as the vertigo washes through him, and his knees buckle slightly.

“Can I get a gurney over here?” called Owen. Another RA unit appears in front of him, a three man crew, and they carefully put TK on the stretcher, one of them cracking an instant ice pack and handing it to him.

“Captain, we’re ready to roll out. Is anyone travelling with Carlos?” yelled Tommy. Owen looks at Gabriel, who moves away from TK, entering the ambulance with his son, the doors slammed shut behind him.

“Dad?” Owen hated how small TK’s voice sounded, and moved to stand next to him, holding his hand.

“What’s up, TK?”

“I’m scared,” he whispered, and Owen could see the tears pooling in TK’s eyes, and moves to swipe them away before they can mark his cheeks.

“It’s okay to be scared. I felt the same way when you got shot,” admitted Owen. The paramedics rolled TK’s gurney, sliding it into the back of the bus, and Owen climbed up inside, sitting next to TK and helping hold the ice pack to his head. TK closes his eyes to the impending wave of nausea that’s just made itself known as they start moving, following Carlos’ ambulance to Memorial Hospital.

The rest of the evening passes by in a blur, until TK has been stripped of his uniform – it’s evidence now – and is in a hideous hospital gown, a bandage wrapped around the top of his head, six stitches holding together a laceration he didn’t even realise was there. Gwyn is sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to feed him soup, and Owen is talking about lavender oil, but TK can’t hear any of it over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears as he realizes Gabriel Reyes is standing in the doorway to his room, holding his hat in his hands, looking sad and worn.

_Oh God, no_.

“I’m gonna be sick,” blurted TK, and thank heavens for Gwyn’s quick reflexes, shoving a basin under his chin as his stomach churns. He can vaguely hear Owen calling for a nurse, muscling past Gabriel, who’s taken refuge in the corner of TK’s room. A nurse appears, raising an eyebrow at the scene before bustling in, cleaning up TK, a second nurse dropping in to dose him up with an anti-emetic. After a few tense minutes, TK’s exhausted, head thumping as the anxiety of having Carlos’ father standing in his room reaches its peak.

“What’s going on?” asked Owen, glancing at Gabriel.

“He’s… he’s just come out of surgery. They’ve found all the bullet fragments, have closed the wounds, but he’s in a coma. A lot of blood loss. He’s in the ICU at the moment, and they were able to reinflate his collapsed lung, but…” Owen knows this story too well, the similarities from TK’s accident months prior echoing through him.

“They don’t know if he’s suffered a brain injury,” supplied Owen quietly.

“I need to be there,” said TK, struggling to sit up.

“No you don’t, you need to be here, in bed, focusing on getting better!” snapped Gwyn, voice shrill. TK winced, the pitch of her voice grating on his already bruised head.

“You don’t understand Mom, he’s my everything. I need to be there when he wakes up, to say thank you, to remind him to fight,” said TK, fighting with the blankets. Owen and Gwyn stepped forward, and Gabriel Reyes ducked out of the room.

“Honey, you’ve got a concussion, you need to be here while the doctors monitor you –”

“I’ll sign out AMA if you don’t help me,” snapped TK. He sagged against the bed, holding Owen’s arm for support. “Please.”

“Okay. Okay, we’ll sort something out, just… just hang on.” Owen gently lowers TK back onto the bed, glancing at Gwyn as he steps out of the room, and from where Gwyn’s sitting, she can see Carlos’ father out near the nurses station, gesturing towards TK’s room. A few minutes later, two nurses come in, a wheelchair in front of them, Owen behind them.

“What’s happening?” asked TK, confused.

“We’re moving you upstairs to Mr. Reyes’ room, in ICU, at the request of his father and your father,” said one of the nurses. She helped TK off the bed, into the wheelchair, tucking a blanket around his legs.

“You don’t mess around with a Texas Ranger and the Captain of the local fire station,” said the other one, a hint of something in her voice. TK was too tired to decipher what it was, and allowed himself to be pushed through the halls, and into an elevator. A few moments later the doors slide open onto a different floor, and TK already notices how quiet it is up here, less chaotic energy than downstairs. The nurse marches him past several rooms, before turning into one, a second bed inside. TK stands up shakily, forcing himself upright as he sees Carlos for the first time in what feels like _days_.

_His heart doesn’t know what to do._

Carlos is laying still on the bed, nothing like TK had ever seen him; even in sleep Carlos looks _alive_ , but now, he looks like he’s a clone, pallor sickly underneath all the medical equipment. Leads snake their way under his hospital gown, monitoring his heart rhythms, nasal cannula tucked tight against his face. The blanket has been draped over his right leg and around his left leg, allowing nurses and doctors easy access to the bandages, and a pillow tucked underneath his knee has it propped up slightly. His right shoulder looks like it’s swaddled in padding, and TK notices that his right thumb has been splinted carefully, the bruised skin peeking out from underneath the dark brace.

_He's so still._

TK takes an unsteady step forward, and nearly trips face first into Carlos’ bed, his body still uncoordinated and out of sync.

“Woah there son, be careful,” said Gabriel, catching TK before he could brain himself on the edge of the bed. Owen steps in beside TK, and he and Gabriel maneuver TK until he’s settled on the bed, eyes already drooping now he can _see_ Carlos.

“Thank you for this. The rest of the crew is on leave, and I need to get Gwyn to the airport—”

“Nonsense. He’s as good as family now, and I’ll keep an eye on him while you’re gone. I have nowhere else to be,” replied Gabriel, voice warm and soothing. Owen gives TK’s hand a quick squeeze, while Gwyn darts in to kiss him on the forehead.

“I’ll see you soon, okay? You’ll have to come visit in New York for a bit,” she whispered. TK nodded, leaning back against the pillows as his parents left, and then snaps his eyes open as he realizes he’s in the same room as _Carlos’ father_. Gabriel is sitting on a chair between their beds, a little notebook perched on his knee, hat abandoned on the side table as he glanced over at his son first, and then TK.

“You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm. Do you want to talk?” asked Gabriel quietly, setting the notebook down.

“I… Um, Carlos really wanted to do this on his own terms,” started TK lamely.

“What, announcing that the two of you were together? Andrea and I already know. Carlitos is not subtle,” replied Gabriel, chuckling a little under his breath.

“And… and you’re okay? With it? I mean, with us?”

“Of course. As long as Carlitos is happy, that’s all that matters to us,” answered Gabriel.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Why? Does it matter to you?” asked Gabriel curiously.

“It mattered to Carlos. He… I think he thought you didn’t accept him, or didn’t care. I don’t know, but seeing you there made him doubt _us_ I think,” tried TK.

“He’s always been anxious about what everyone else thinks, always wanting to do the best. He has good instincts with people, I thought he would have realised that his mother and I accepted who he was, but I see now that maybe he didn’t. He usually has a good gut instinct, but maybe he didn’t trust himself,” explained Gabriel. He glanced over as Carlos’ heart monitor beeped quietly, pulse increasing on the screen, breaths quickening. Gabriel turned away from TK, smoothing a gentle hand over his son’s brow.

“Shh Carlitos, it’s okay, you’re safe.” Carlos’ settled briefly under his father’s touch, and the monitors calmed down. “Do you love him?”

“Wh--? Yes, I do. I’ve found an incredible man, one who’s shown me that it was okay to open up my heart. He does so much for me, and I wonder if I’m ever good enough for him,” replied TK sadly.

“He loves you.”

“How do you know?”

“My son has only ever defied me twice in his life. Once, when he chose not to join the Texas Rangers and instead joined APD, and the second, tonight, when I told him to stay where he was. My son has always followed rules, has been a stickler for them since he was a child, and only now, has he chosen to ignore an order from me. He loves you enough to defy me,” said Gabriel. TK felt his heart skip a beat as he glanced across at Carlos.

“He’s amazing. I honestly don’t know how he does it, but he has been there for me every step of the way, and I feel like I’m finding an old friend. Everything fits together, colors are brighter, food tastes better, and he doesn’t question anything. I don’t want to lose him,” admitted TK.

“And you won’t _m’hijo_. He’s strong, and he’ll come through this to come back to you. You two deserve each other.”

* * *

Twenty four hours later, TK has been discharged from the hospital, but he hasn’t left. He’s sitting next to Carlos’ bed, a hand wound around his arm, holding him close as he breathes in his smell, the safety he brings. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t feel the need to fill the room. Gabriel has gone for coffee, to find Andrea so she can see her son, and TK is grateful for the moment of solitude with Carlos. He presses his head to Carlos’ bicep, taking a deep breath, when he feels Carlos’ fingers tighten on his hand.

“Carlos?” His brow furrows, has that cute little dip in it that he often presses a kiss to when Carlos is trying to explain something and TK’s not getting it.

“TK? _TK_ , are you okay? What happened?” Carlos voice is rough from disuse, and TK soothes him quietly.

“Shh, you’re okay. You got shot. Twice, actually, so now you’re one up on me. You get the fun drugs though, so you should be feeling pretty okay,” said TK warmly, running his fingers through Carlos’ hair.

“Shot? How –”

“Dad’s not a cop, he didn’t check that Wolfe was unarmed. He still had a gun in his hand, and he shot wild. He caught you in the right shoulder and the left thigh, though I’m not sure what happened to your thumb,” explained TK. Carlos’ face flushes at the mention of his thumb, and TK grins.

“What is it?”

“I tried to do one of those dramatic exits you’re always seeing in movies, and I misjudged the door handle, smacked my thumb into it. I didn’t realise it was broken though,” admitted Carlos. He smiles at TK, still looking pale and unwell, but TK thinks he looks amazing because _he’s awake_.

“And in other news, your parents definitely know about us?” started TK.

“What?”

“They definitely know about us. Your parents knew at the market, but they didn’t want to push you. Your Dad even wants us to do dinner at some point, but I don’t know how you want to play that one,” added TK. Carlos leans back against his pillows.

“Did he seem okay?”

“Your Dad? Yeah, he seemed cool. We got to talk for a while, and he said you have good instincts with people, and you always know when to trust your gut,” quoted TK. Carlos felt his breath hitch momentarily, and TK’s grip on his arm tightened. “Babe, are you okay?”

Carlos felt tears start to run down his cheeks, sobs breaking through moments later, and TK moves to sit next to him on the bed and just holds him close, careful of his damaged shoulder, Carlos clutching TK’s shirt, TK whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he desperately tries to calm down because crying hurts.

“I… I just never thought I was good enough. For him,” sniffled Carlos. TK kissed the top of Carlos head.

“He spoke very highly of you Carlos. Like a proud parent would. Like I would.” Carlos tried to shuffle himself down a little, to get himself comfortable, and gasped as he put pressure on his leg, pain radiating through him.

“God, that hurts,” breathed Carlos.

“Hey, just focus on me for a second, you’re okay. It’s gonna hurt for a while, I speak from experience,” joked TK.

“Well, at least it won’t matter that I’m suspended now, I’ll officially be on leave for the next six weeks while I try to patch my life back together,” grumbled Carlos.

“Wait, you’re suspended?”

_Crap._

“Uh, yeah? It’s like a lot, but it’s probably necessary. I didn’t apprehend a suspect when I should have,” said Carlos quietly.

“And the investigation has been closed,” said Gabriel sternly. TK and Carlos glanced up at Gabriel standing in the doorway, Andrea behind him.

“What? How?”

“Because you were _right,_ _m’hijo_. Yes, you will probably face some disciplinary action, but I do not foresee it being serious. You saved a lot of lives today Carlitos, and I’m proud of you,” added Gabriel.

“We’re both proud of you Carlitos. So proud. And you TK, you would have been so scared, but you were so brave.” TK felt his face flush at the compliments, ducking his head to kiss Carlos’ temple, carefully drawing him close.

“We’ll leave you boys alone for a little while longer, okay? No funny business,” admonished Gabriel, and TK snickered as the Andrea and Gabriel left the room. Carlos felt himself relax against TK, everything starting to feel less anxious and tense in his life, listening to TK’s heartbeat under his ear. He started to drift off, feeling warm and safe, TK’s breath ghosting across the top of his head.

“Hey Carlos?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for finding me.” Carlos tilts his head up to look at TK, the dark line of stitches still evident on his forehead.

“I’m glad I found you. Though I’m certain I’m going to go gray before I’m 35 because of you,” jested Carlos. TK laughed, pressing a kiss to Carlos.

“Yeah, but you love me,” TK said, the smile evident in his voice.

“Yeah. I do. I love you Tyler Kennedy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is back!! It ate my account for fun, so they gave it back.   
> Come say hiiiii and drop me a prompt if you like?


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